Coming to Terms
by TrulyTheOne
Summary: *ON HIATUS*Harry married Draco to the disgrace of his friends. Years later, Draco is killed. Harry runs to the aid of his long-lost friends. Now he must face the challenges of coming to terms with those he once lost.HP/DM,HP/OC
1. Prologue

A/N: Welcome to story #4!! As my faithful readers know I write only Draco/Harry fics (for the time being) so STOP NOW if you hate SLASH. About two months ago I posted the Prologue to this story but my computer had a virus and ate everything on my computer. I have been re-writing this off and on but since my three stories are complete I will have more time to devote to this story!

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SUMMARY: Harry Potter married Draco Malfoy, but to the disgrace of his friends and family. Years later, Draco is murdered. Harry, knowing he has nowhere else to turn, goes to the aid of his long-lost friends. Now he must face the difficult challenges of not only coming to terms with his lover's death but with his oldest friends.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to J.K. Rowling. This story is a non-profit, independent fan fiction.

**Coming To Terms originally known as Blue Roses & Black Dreams**

**Prologue:  
****\/Setting-Shannon, Ireland\/**

The air was cold, bone-chilling cold. It crept and slithered beneath their skin, goose bumps rising. Even when he crossed his arms, holding onto his lovers hand, he still felt as if a blow would shatter him. He didn't know when the air would again warm for it was magic that ended the sun's beautiful rays. No one understood it, but they all knew something was not right.

For a moment, it seemed as if the silence would continue eternally. Stuff their blue ears with tissue until it reached their slow acting minds. Bring their other senses down to a low hum.

Then it happened, quicker than a bolt of lightning.

A red blast knocked the wooden door off its hinges, blasting the room full of friends off their feet. Noise like that none had heard, a high pitched screeching, earsplitting. Some clapped their hands over their ears and died on the spot. Those who did not die ran for the back door; pitiful little Muggles. Yet he and his other half stayed and fought like true warriors. This was not new to them, for they were wizards.

Instantly, the raven haired man's intuition pumped through his coursing veins. Pure adrenaline showered his senses as his body nimbly ducked a flying lamp. He smiled. Long forgotten in his mind he had loved this. It was second nature, the suckling a baby did moments after birth.

"_Confringo_!" the blonde man bellowed, a long and thin piece of wood clutched in his right hand. "Move!" Dodging a black spell that collided with the couch, he sprang into action, sending spells flying in every direction. The "men" that surrounded the front door and window became one with each other.

The two warriors dodged another assault of black spells and ducked behind the stairs. "What the hell was that?" Crouching the raven grabbed onto the smaller man for warmth, who shook his head against the visible cut on his arm.

"Must have been an augmenting spell, but nothing like I've ever seen. Finally, throwing spells worked to my advantage. Auror training," he cringingly remembered.

"Do we know why he is here?" He took in the room's interior: smashed windows, broken and lost furniture, cracks in the walls, and bodies. Too many bodies. In a matter of what was minutes the room had been turned into a war zone. That blood was never going to come out of the carpet, shame.

"No clue. Vengeance? Anyone you know?"

"Can't tell. His cloak covers too much of his face." Wincing the man flattened himself against the wall as more spells were sent their way. "You?"

The blonde shook his head as his blue grey eyes met never ending forests. "Let's finish, but we are having no more parties in this living room." Smiles flicked as the two readied themselves for the next onslaught.

When the two stepped from under their "hideout," they came face to cloak with the one man show. Before they could utter a syllable, a fist slammed into each wizards' head. Ringing and spots erupted, ensnaring their tuned senses. Luckily, the bigger boy recovered first, granting him time to collide his knee with the imposer's stomach. Quickly, he slashed out with his fists. Left, right, left. He jumped back and turned to gain the higher ground. Twisting his upper torso, the raven flicked his wand, yellow bands coiling up the enemy's limbs.

With a flutter of eyelashes, the rope mutated into a pair of red and yellow cobras, deadly, eyes the color of oozing puss. The cloaked figure's mouth opened, a waterfall flooded over the floor, again knocking the light wizards over.

Something caught the green eyed man's attention. Tucked inside the opponent's black velvet robes was a small knife with a carved handle. "Move back, Draco!" he frantically yelled. "He doesn't want-" A liquid gel plastered his moving mouth. Crawling, it began to slide up his face, coating his nostrils. Unable to breathe, he fell to his knees and forced his eyes shut, trying to calm his frenzied mind. Only then would he be able to breathe again.

Eventually he inhaled and looked up, only to find his soul mate pinned underneath a set of knees to the wet and damaged floor, the knife maliciously glinting above his body. Magically, something was controlling the blonde for he wasn't trying to wriggle free. Almost as if the same spell had been placed unto him, he stared in horror and simply watched.

In an eerily calm voice, the imposter spoke fluent English. "Here, what no man was able to accomplish, lies my offering. Take it, Oh Dark One, and grant me full pardon!" His voice crescendoed and in the end he plunged the knife tip deep into the soft pale skin. Startled, Harry began to fight the enchantment over him. It was useless. A dim light exited Draco's eyes as they glazed over. It entered the knife which was extracted and used to cut a thin sliver of skin down the cloaked figure's forearm.

A bead of sweat fell down the man's head. Swiping it away with his uninjured arm, his hood fell, askew. An ordinary man's face stared at the knife. Waiting. The light entered the wound and immediately was gone, along with the killer.

Suddenly, the raven was able to move. He ran to the blonde, fumbling with his wand. "_Rennervate_!" Nothing. "_Episkey_." The body was still. "No! Don't be dead! You can't be! What the hell?! This wasn't the plan! What happened to our goddamned, fucking plan?" An angry tear glided down his pale cheek as he hugged the dead body close to his own. The warmth in his limbs abated as he silently cried. "Please," he whispered, "I need you." Pain erupted within his heart, an explosion like a grenade had been thrown. His nostrils flared as he tried to fight it off, tried to compose himself. After several tries he let it all out; the pain, the loss, the grief he feared would never end.

In a rush of time and heartache unknown to many, Harry Potter, the raven haired man in the dream, jolted awake, soaked through with sweat and tears. His clock glowed 12:01 am, the same time it did every night he relived his worst nightmare, that which was his reality. Burned into his retinas and the back of his eyelids was the face of the man who had killed his lover, Draco Lucius Malfoy. Dark brown eyes, nearly black, and spiked ebony hair with a slim jaw line and crooked nose. Not a face you forgot when you saw it every night and every night let him get away, untouched and unscathed.

Part of reliving that day not only meant he watched Draco die time and again, but it also meant trying to figure out what went wrong and failing to atone for what he let happen. If he had moved, if he had thought, if he had known! For all the if's in the world, it changed nothing. There was a gaping hole within his soul. Why wouldn't there be? His soul mate had been brutally taken from him.

Sighing, Harry knew he would not get anymore sleep that night; he never did. Bags had formed from lack of sleep beneath his eyes, the color in them no longer that of forests, but the shallow and empty color of despair. Bones sharply stuck out of pale skin. Clothes hung on him like they had when he was a teen living with his aunt and uncle. His body was disagreeing with his life style, his newest habits, yet he cared none.

Six months had passed and he was still not able to breathe without fear of seeing that haunting face and letting him slip past his defenses again. Wondering if he would ever live happily ever after, Harry filled a small glass with tap water. Two blinks and it was gone, like the life he used to have.

Sometimes the quiet infiltrated his hazed mind. At times like that, like now, Harry talked to himself, or rather to Draco, as if he was alive and able to hear him. The if's, again. Harry wished not only that Draco was alive but that he had someone to speak with, even though he knew he would brush them off. They meant nothing to him, or wouldn't were they real.

As the hours slowly ticked away, he began to nod off. His last words before sleep overpowered his exhausted mind and body were, "Till death do us part." Then he remembered nothing until the morning rays touched his limp head.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: Starting Over  
****\/Six Months Later\/**

Boxes, small and large, half packed and taped, filled the empty house's hallways. He was moving back to England, back to the life he had given up to be with the man he loved. This was the biggest idea Harry had in the past year, the only idea he had that didn't involve wasting away or being all alone all day.

Ideas weren't the only thing that Harry began to experience again. Sleep was coming more generously and with it, dreams. Not all about that last fateful night or about the killer walking, rather magicking, free. One had involved Draco, a healthy and alive version, set in the future. Children with dark hair and light eyes pranced around them. A yellow house, similar to the one he was leaving, gleamed in the bright sunlight. Harry had awaken shaking and weeping harder than ever before for the life he would never have.

That was why he was leaving. It was not only something he knew he had to do, for himself and his career, but to regain what he had lost. Hopefully it would be easier to move on, pick up the pieces, and one day find the yellow house, though it would be with another man, though that was currently something inconceivable in his mind's eye.

Ringing, the phone interrupted his private thoughts. He let it ring four times before he finally picked it up. "Yes?" he asked, knowing who was on the other line.

"Hello dear," a forced cheery voice called from the other end.

Trying for a joke, Harry said, "Glad to know you finally figured out how to use the telephone. Mrs. Weasley."

"It did take a while, but Hermione was a wonderful helping hand with it. She would have called herself-"

"No, no. I understand. You all have lives. I'm interrupting them." Almost hanging up he heard the sad sigh of his best friend's mum.

"Harry, dear, you aren't interrupting anything. You have no idea how long we waited for a call, a letter, anything. We just wanted news of how you and…"

"Draco."

"Yes, Draco, were fairing."

"I'm sorry I didn't call." That was a lie; he didn't care, for _they _hadn't cared enough. Cared enough to tell him they were happy he had someone in his life, that he had saved someone from the Dark side, even that they accepted him. Instead he received denial and rejection.

"We understand. There were two sides to your choice, two faults. Um…" she paused. Harry assumed she was trying hard not to shed tears. He could hear the strain in her voice from the anxiety he gave them all. "Are your flight plans all settled?"

"Yeah. Nearly done packing too. Just need to get rid of a few things of his."

"That's good to hear, darling. Your living arrangements are ready here as well. You'll be staying in our guest house until you find a place of your own, that is. We can change that if you need though, we understand."

"That will be fine. Thank you. Well, I guess I will be seeing you by the end of this week then. My things that I'm keeping are arriving through the Knight Bus at noon. I'll Apparate over a little before hand to ensure no one has to fuss over them."

"We'll be waiting then. It's good to hear your voice, Harry."

"Yours too."

"It will be great seeing you after all this time."

He didn't repeat her kind words. "Bye." Hanging up he realized how hard it was just to talk to someone he had found to be his second mother. Seeing her and the others in person was going to be more difficult. There was no telling if they would all be as welcoming as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. One could hope, that was all he really could do until that day arrived.

Once Harry finished packing, he stacked the boxes in the corner of the spotless kitchen, away from the stained living room. In the months since Draco's death, he hadn't gotten up the courage to enter it. Always sharking it, going around the back of the house, had seemed easier. Now he knew it was his last giant leap before he left the home he had started.

Today was not that day though. Maybe tomorrow, or the day after. He still had a few days before he would leave. Although Harry did not like to put things off, he had an appointment he could not miss. The anniversary. One year to the day. Something not to be taken lightly.

Wearing his best suit and tie, the raven haired man bravely stepped outside his back door. Outside was dark and gloomy, perfectly matching what Harry felt inside. It looked like rain, even smelled like rain, yet nothing had fallen as of yet. If he drove slow, he would get stuck in it. So he took his time to unlock his beat up Chevy, which he was selling tomorrow afternoon, and drove five below the posted speed limit.

At the grave site, a light mist began to fall, clouding the background like rolling fog. It set the mood for Harry to say goodbye. The grave marker sat alone beneath a sycamore tree; its branches nearly touched the ground, drooping with age. Wiping his hand across the cold stone, he traced the carved words he had picked out long ago.

_Draco Lucius Malfoy-Potter.  
__Born June 5th, 1980. Died July 23rd, 1999.  
__Devoted Husband, Loving Friend.  
__Forever Shall You Be Missed._

"Hey, baby," Harry began, his voice quavering. "I know I haven't been down here a whole lot, but it would have meant you were really gone. Unable to come back to me. For a long time I couldn't accept that."

Pausing, he laid the flowers he had brought on the grave. Blue roses, always. Draco's favorite flower. "Our three year anniversary was last week. You remember the last one? I was running late and you burned our dinner." A sad smile played at the end of his lips, remembering. "I still ate it, just for you. Anything for you.

"Then we had that get together, a year from today. Too many people died, including you. We should have held it off or canceled it. Too late now, I guess. What's not too late to do is for me to try and start over. It's not something I really want to do, but I think you would want me to at least try. If I remember right, I knew you like I knew myself. I know that leaving you will be one of the hardest things I have to do. Honestly, after this, I have no idea what I'm doing. I wish you were here to lead the way like you always did."

Sighing, Harry wiped at the tears that fell from his soaked eyes. "This isn't goodbye forever. I'll come back to visit every year on this day, I promise. I won't forget you or what we had. Nothing could ever come between that. Distance isn't measured by kilometers. I love you." His fingers brushed the cool stone as he turned and slowly walked away.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Welcome Home**

Taking a deep breath, letting the warm, spring air cleanse him, Harry finally opened his emerald eyes. Surrounding him was a small, fruitful grove of apple trees. Someone's backyard portrait. Instead of Apparating directly to the Burrow, he had opted to arrive at the nearest location he could remember. He hadn't wanted to pop in on the Weasleys nor had he wanted to be unannounced. They knew he was coming, yet he still felt queasy. Something he hadn't been able to shake since his last conversation with Mrs. Weasley.

Walking through the maze of trees, he picked a ripe apple from the smallest one. His first fresh apple in…How long? Six months? A year? However long, it had been ages. Letting the tart juice slide down his parched throat, Harry relished in the delight he found in something as simple as food. Too long had it been since he enjoyed anything. That was hopefully going to change.

Once settled in at the Burrow, Harry was determined to restart his advice column again. Hiding his true identity made this aspect easier, his penname never linked directly to anyone he knew, since they would not bother him with questions containing his personal life. Not even his editor knew that 'Quirinus Tells All' was written by him. All communication was sent through post-owls. The column was not popular but well liked by the Irish Wizarding community. It fulfilled Harry's life at the time but since Draco's death he had not written a single word, nor had he thought about it. His editor understood, using publications from earlier columns in addition to the months worth of articles written before the tragedy.

Throwing the apple's core into a small rotund bush, Harry glanced down the path he was headed, the Burrow lurking over the miniature hill. With a deep breath, he began walking, kicking up dirt in his sluggishness. As his head slowly peered over the hill he noticed four solitary figures standing before the leaning home. Quickly ducking back beneath the hill Harry's insides churned, a liquid bile rising in his throat. Harry clutched his stomach as he leaned over, white apple chunks spewing from his opened mouth. Ants scurried out of the avalanche's way. He wiped the back of his right hand over his mouth and told himself he could and would do this. 'They are waiting.'

Once he was back to some semblance of normal, he stepped over the edge. Light splayed on the three red-haired Weasleys and bushy-haired girl. For a moment their faces were a jumble of emotions, some concerned, some clearly unhappy, and others wide-eyed. Then the emotions flickered into practiced smiles and froze there.

"Hello Harry," Mrs. Weasley first ventured, her hands as tight on her apron as her voice. "Did you have a good trip?"

Harry nodded. Small talk wasn't going to make the moment any less awkward, no use faking it for anyone's sense.

She continued to smiled. "That is good to hear. Arthur and I have made up the guest house, but I already told you that." Nervously chuckling to herself her hands continued to mutilate her once assumed ironed apron. With a flick of her eyes she glared at the other three individuals. Immediately they smiled wider and repeated memorized questions and comments, all of which Harry took no interest in.

"Fine," he mumbled, "Yup. Ok. Sure."

"The long trip must have worn you out, I'll show you-"

"I can find it myself," he interrupted the now silent Mrs. Weasley. "but thanks."

He excused himself and followed another dirt path around the back of the house he once called home and found a small, one story shack. Dark wood and grey metal haphazardly covered the outside walls and surrounded the plastic-like windows, clearly fashioned from the cheapest materials available. Inside Harry was not shocked by what he saw: a small, rickety bed with tatty sheets, a wooden and very used table, cracked dishes on a cracked countertop with a leaky sink, and faded chairs, all of which encircled a giant rug. To his own astonishment the rug was newly made, the date 1998 stitched in the left corner above WEASLEY. It was a crudely sewn together family tree (similar to the Black Family Tree) but clearly composed with love and a little magic, some names changing colors as if to signify their mood or whereabouts and others a stately black, dead or nearly there. Gliding a hand across the material he wondered to himself, taking no notice of the lopsided door's squeak.

"My great-aunt Tessie's sister-in-law made it for us before she died last year," Ron's voice wafted around the barren room. "She quite liked us, I suppose, but she hid it well under her wandering eyes."

Turning, Harry looked upon his oldest friend. Nothing, appearance wise, had changed, he was still tall and gangly like he hadn't grown into his many growth spurts, his hair still hung in his eyes which held there an immense amount of pain and layers and he still held himself the way he did when they were teenagers. So why then did it feel like he didn't know the man standing in front of him?

"Noticed you wanted privacy but Mum asked if you wanted to join us for dinner tonight," Ron continued.

The Harry who hated his old friends and family for turning on him wanted to shove the wand from his back into their eyes but the Harry who knew they were being hospitable said, "I'll be there." Would his hunger come back to him or would he have to force feed himself as he had done after weeks of starving to death? Would they notice if he didn't show? Would they honestly care, he pondered.

As if seeing inside his head, Ron looked over his shoulder, his hand on the door knob, "We all missed you, some of us more than others, and we didn't all cope well. I'm sorry for your loss." Then he was gone.

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A/N: I know this is kind of short and you've all been really patient, but I have to work some kinks out and am unsure where to take this still. Thanks!

The name Quirinus comes "from the words 'co-viri,' meaning 'of two men.' Quirinus was applied to Romulus, for whom Rome was named, when he was considered a god. Furthermore, there is a connection between Quirinus and Janus Quirinus, the two-faced god. Janus was the god of both beginnings and endings and was depicted as having one face look forward while the other watched behind, much like our dear professor Quirrell" (). I picked this because he and Draco were soul mates, two identities, one heart/mind as well as the life after Draco is divided into two parts: mourning and moving on.


	4. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to J.K. Rowling. This story is a non-profit, independent fan fiction.

**Coming To Terms  
****aka Blue Roses & Black Dreams**

**Chapter Three: Neighbors  
**Determined to show he was willing to change the past, Harry unwillingly left his shack. Inside the Weasley home, a warm and roaring fire greeted him. To his surprise, it felt cheery and cozy despite the situation: mouthwatering smells wafted his way, once again making his stomach churn, overstuffed chairs were splayed around the living area, and candles flickered life into the seemingly still home.

"Where would you like to sit dear?" Mrs. Weasley politely asked, retreating from the hall where she had obviously awaited his arrival, her hands once again twisting her now stained apron.

Harry indifferently shrugged his shoulders.

"Tonight we are having guests, very last minute, and they usually sit there-" she pointed to the four chairs at the table closest to the entrance way, "-but no one would be angered if you sat there."

"Here is fine." He sat in the chair to Mr. Weasley's right, across from the guests' seats. "Thank you," he added cordially. She turned toward the kitchen just as Ginny rounded the stairs. Her red hair was unusually straight and her clothes immaculately ironed. An air of higher standards flowed around her, something Harry knew to be untrue, or was untrue.

Catching his stare, Ginny blushed lipstick red but didn't hide it. "What?"

"Nothing. You look kind of dressed up."

Flipping her hair in annoyance, she testified, "You have your nervous ticks, I have mine."

Harry questioned himself whether he was the cause of her state or the other guests. Without much time to ponder, the once peaceful flames shot upward with green hands, a short and rotund man exiting through them. With dark, stubby fingers he brushed ash from his graying beard. Familiar eyes searched the quiet room, automatically landing on Harry's obvious scar. At that moment another figure stepped out of the flames. This man, or rather boy by the unblemished face he wore, was slightly taller than the older man yet as rotund. The two were clearly related, their eyes the color of thick syrup and their hair feather black. Blushing when the boyish eyes landed upon Ginny, the younger Egyptian twitched in anticipation. Before Harry could compare the two further, a final figure appeared, the green flames quickly dying. Though a familiar face once again studied Harry, this man strikingly contrasted the others; his lean figure was like a sapling, long and small, with straight black hair which fell around his ears and framed his angular face.

"Nizam, old chap!" Mr. Weasley rejoiced, striding into the dining area. "Great to have you here, on such short notice. Molly can barely keep her bonnet on."

"It's our pleasure, Arthur." He shook the outstretched arm, the veins in his hand more pronounced than the deep set wrinkles in his leathery face. "Unfortunately Run wasn't able to make it tonight," his eyes along with the skinny man's cooled, "but he sends his regards."

Mr. Weasley jovially laughed. "Off on another secret mission?"

"Something like that," pausing he assessed the situation. "I see we are not the only guests here tonight."

"Ah, no, quite right. Hermione is here as well and this is our newest guest. Harry Potter meet Nizam Amun and his two children Bes and Ziyad. Runihura is Ziyad's twin."

Harry obligingly shook Nizam's hand.

Continuing, Mr. Weasley ignored the awkward silence, "They are our neighbors to the West. Gave them a fright the first day here-"

"Only because Ron Apparated into their rose bush," Ginny giggle into her hand.

"ONCE!" Ron bellowed from his room.

"He got prickers up his ar-butt," she told Harry as she clutched her ribs in vain and peered at her unhearing father.

Ziyad input, "To truly understand, you had to see it first hand."

A voice smooth as worn pebbles slid its way down Harry's spine, a warm trickling affected his mind for a moment. "I've had my share of Ron caused catastrophes." He truly grinned for the first time in months. Immediately he felt a strange pull towards the attractive stranger, a pull he hadn't felt since his days with Draco. Suddenly, the smile on his face slid like rubber off his face at the realization.

"Dinner is served," called Mrs. Weasley.

Two pairs of feet thudded down the stairs in answer while the six wizards and witches took their seats. Plates of steaming food floated in from the kitchen. Harry was still unsure how to politely refuse the food that was being generously pilled onto his plate. Most of the time he only ate enough to look healthy, the apple he had thrown up the only real food he'd had. The food on his plate could have sustained him for two days. Taking a few bites and swirling the remnants seemed he best idea until Ginny nudged his leg and whispered, "She noticed." Harry quickly stuffed an especially large forkful of baked potato into his mouth, nearly choking in the process. When he looked up Mrs. Weasley was deep in conversation with her husband and Nizam. Bes tried to keep up with Ginny but she spoke with a pace he obviously wasn't used to. It reminded Harry of Hermione's excited tangents about school and homework. Grinning to himself, Harry didn't notice Ziyad's staring gaze.

"You haven't said much this evening," Ziyad ventured, still staring.

Harry, unsure what to say, stared back. _Have the Weasleys said something about me to the Amuns?_ he wondered.

"What are you doing back in Britain?"

Clearly they had shared some information with their newest friends. It slightly warmed his heart, yet it chilled him to the marrow to speculate what was stated and what was clearly conjecture.

"Bit rude of you to ignore guests."

For a moment Harry continued to stare into the brown eyes. _Is he purposely trying to irritate me? _His facial features gave nothing away, nor was there a twinkling in his eyes. "I'm a guest here as well."

"But unlike us," he waved his fork between himself, his father and brother, "we do not have living quarters here."

Anger flared around his system. _Why is he being such an idiot? Can't he see I want to sit here in silence? That isn't much to ask for. _"I won't be staying long."

"What?!" Ginny's head snapped left. "I thought-I-what-why?" Hurtful eyes sought out the truth in his face. He wanted her to quiet down, to stop talking. He didn't want anyone to know.

"Please Gin, I haven't figured it all out yet," he whispered.

"You just got here," her voice rose and trembled. "How can you be so callous and leave us again? We want you to stay."

"Gin, ple-"

"No!" she commanded, the table's conversations automatically halting. "There is no reason for you to leave! As hard as the first time was, I don't know what the second time will bring." Violently she pushed away from the table and ran up the stairs. Feet pounded and faded with the slam of a door.

"What was she talking about?" Ron's fierce voice echoed the table's concerns.

"Nothing," mumbled Harry.

"Obviously it wasn't nothing."

"Ronald," Mr. Weasley began.

"Dad, stop," he interrupted, "You, like everyone here, wants to know. I for sure want to know if Harry is planning on ditching us again.

Looking into Ron's eyes, Harry uttered, "I didn't ditch anyone, I was pushed."

"Pushed my arse!" Fury dripped from the red head's tongue. "You ran so fast when we didn't understand you left a bloody trail."

"You don't realize-"

"No shit."

Mrs. Weasley's shocked voice scolded her son. "That is no way to-"

"Mum, how can you sit there and let this happen? Dad, why do you shark the obvious questions? Does no one care?"

"I do," Hermione firmly remarked, her hands slightly shaking in her lap.

"I don't have the answers," pleaded Harry.

"And we do?" Ron again questioned. "Honestly, Harry, everyone is scared you will turn and run. No one regrets more what happened that Mum. She cried every night, fearing the worst and denying herself the truth, that you wanted to leave." He cut off Harry's reply with his hand, anger thrashing the words. "You chose it. Instead of changing our minds or living with what we felt, you rushed off, with him! That was the worst because you chose a longtime enemy over family and friends. How could we even begin to process that? For Merlin's sake we thought you were under the Cruciatus Curse!"

"That wasn't it at all," Harry finally defended.

"What were we to believe? One day you bring Malfoy over and tell us you love him. It's not normal!"

"None of what happened was."

"Then you should have explained yourself instead of dropping it." His voice calmed, weary from yelling. "Things don't go as planned, and you of all people should know that. Once again, I'm sorry we can't give you what you needed, but we are trying now." Defeated, Ron stood and wandered from the room.

Not brave enough to look at the anxious eyes, Harry sat in his chair, his head bowed awaiting his conviction. When he had fled, part of him had stayed behind, locked here in the walls. It was apparent he had found it, that it had to return to him eventually. Some things were never forgotten, like the hurt that had ripped his heart to pieces. _Can I really do this? _he asked himself.

"Harry?" Mrs. Weasley's hand gently grasped his. "Harry?"

Tears poured from his emerald eyes and down his nose. They dripped onto his Muggle jeans. "Would it matter if-if-" he couldn't finish for fear of the anguish his voice would tell.

"No matter what has happened, sweetie, you are still a part of this family. There is nothing that could change that," soothed Mrs. Weasley, her arms wrapping around his frail body as she spoke. Every feeling Harry had within his body ruptured, his body heaving in protest. Comfort and warmth carved its way into the hollow of his heart, the frigid cold finally ebbing away inch by inch.

"There, there," she continued to sooth, patting his messy hair flat. And for a moment, Harry wondered how he had so easily run from the only family he had known.

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**A/N: The Egyptian names of the characters are all real except for Nizam which I made up. Amun was the God of Mystery, Runihura means destroyer, Ziyad means he shall add and Bes is brings joy. These names are crucial to their characters. Also, sorry for the long wait between chapters, I wrote this out nearly three weeks ago but my computer's hard drive crashed the next day. Because I had to get a new hard drive, I lost the story and have been working on getting this chapter back to what I could remember. Thanks for waiting and being patient!**


	5. Chapter 4

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**A/N: The long parts in italics are flashbacks, they are separated a little from the rest of it as to not confuse anyone. Normally, small parts in italics are thoughts.

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DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to J.K. Rowling. This story is a non-profit, independent fan fiction.

**Coming To Terms**

**aka Blue Roses & Black Dreams**

**Chapter Four: Memories**

Laying in his cheap bed, memories swirled before his closed eyes of the horrible dinner he left, ashamed and spent, searching for the peace he needed, and farther memories of times once happy.

_"Harry," a silky voice called as the raven wizard entered the doorway, "Close your eyes."_

_"Why?" a quizzical look played on his features._

_"Just do it," the other commanded._

_Grumbling, the raven willingly shut his eyes. Within moments a pair of cool hands slid over his eyes to ensure no sign of what lay ahead was seen. They led the blinded man to a flight of stairs which took both men to the second floor. A door squeaked, informing the raven they were in the spare room._

_"Open," instructed the voice._

_Two delicate, crystal champagne flutes from their marriage sat on the wooden floor between a small picnic basket and the mattress from their bed. Tiny fairy lights sparkled overhead, casting their luminous lights into the barren corners of the room._

_"I know it isn't much, but I figured I could bring a little bit of home back with us."_

_Green, dewy eyes shone in the twinkling lights. "This is wonderful, Draco, thank you." Holding his husband close, the brunette breathed in his musky cologne. "It's amazing."_

_Smiling, the blonde swiped hair away from the other's eyes. "I wanted to do more but you refuse to let me use magic," he fake pouted, "but I understand. I can't tell you enough ho-"_

_Gently placing his lips on the blonde's, Harry kissed him, letting the love and warmth he felt replace the slight emptiness in his heart._

The memory ended, the feeling of Draco's lips still on his. Though this memory was vague, like an out of body experience, Harry relished in the torch-like pain his heart remembered too easily. _At least_, he thought to himself, _they haven't faded_. What worried him more than the wounds re-opened were the thoughts and memories of Draco's life leaving him forever. It was bad enough he had lost his soul mate, his life partner, his everything, but he couldn't lose recalling the finer details to their relationship. At times, when the memories stilled and his jumbled mind froze in panic, he took out the few photos he had of Draco, mostly ones from their wedding, but a few from other larger moments in their lives. Those photos were stashed beneath his mattress, somewhere handy to take out yet far enough away to be unseen by other's eyes.

His thoughts triggered another memory, the first pleasant one they'd shared together, many times replayed as if he was back at Hogwarts, a mere teenager.

_"Stupid git. Why can't you leave them alone?" Harry shouted as he raced into the air on his broom, the wind enjoyably tossing his mussed hair._

_Draco snickered. "Can't stand that I've lost interest in you?" He pelted another iced snowball at the unsuspecting first years._

_"Shut it, Malfoy."_

_"Or what? We're fifty feet in the air. What can you possibly do?" A malicious sneer spread across his pale face._

_Quickly Harry grasped his wand, pointing it at his enemy's face and shortly replied, "Hex you."_

_"Not if you can't catch me," and with that Draco zoomed toward the Forbidden Forest's bare walls. Harry pursued the flying teen, murderous thoughts sprinting through his mind, all of which were brutal and bloody. He had no time for games, no time to waste on the cretin._

_Speeding through tree branches and around wide trunks of pine, Harry slowly inched his way behind Draco's broom. At the last moment, before crashing into an outstretched limb, he lunged at the tail of his imposer's broom, immediately regretting it. _

_Jerking off his broom, Draco crashed through the canopy of trees, breaking a few branches off as he hit them at full force. A crunching noise erupted next to Harry, Draco's broom splintered into an oak tree. Then, thunking to the ground, the Slytherin's body lay motionless. Shock resounded through his brain as he rushed to his aid._

_"Draco? Draco!" Harry yelled before jumping off his still moving broom. Shaking the teen, he leaned close to the still face and felt a puff of sweet air hit his face. Large gashes covered his bared arms and face. There was no real way to test for broken bones or internal bleeding, but Harry hoped for the best._

_"Draco," he shook the body again, "If I'm going to take you to the Hospital Wing, I need you conscious."_

_Bending over him again, worry crawled in his stomach. What if he was slowly dying? What if he had a concussion?_

_"Fuck," he whispered with dread, flinging his hand through his windswept hair. Unexpectedly, Draco's eyes fluttered open before Harry could decide the next step. Relief flooded over the dread. "Thank Merlin. Can you hear me?" He bent ever closer._

_"Of course I can, you dolt," Draco groaned, "I'm injured not deaf."_

_A smile played across Harry's dry lips, irritation normally felt around the Slytherin gone. "Glad to know. Can you at least sit up?"_

_Awkwardly Draco pulled himself into a sitting position, holding his back in pain. Standing, Harry noticed a long tear in the black robes, a large bruise already formed along the spine. The Slytherin stumbled as he applied pressure to his right leg. Harry caught him before he hit the ground again, their faces so close their noses barely touching. _

_Draco whispered, "I think my leg is broken."_

_A strong yearning crept under Harry's skin, something dark and unfamiliar. In a split second's decision, Harry forced his lips to his enemy's, the beast within roaring in satisfaction, growling for more. Hands flew over bodies, lips hungrily attacking lips, before each realized the extent of what happened._

_"What the fuck, Potter?" Draco shoved away from Harry in anger._

_Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Harry spewed, "Don't blame me, you rat bastard."_

_They sat ten feet apart, fury on their faces, tension in their bodies, yet wild eyes craving more, full lips trembling._

That day had led to many more secretive snog-fests, including ones where they were nearly caught and others planned days in advance. After their snog-fests had become fewer and farther apart, Harry gave Draco more of himself than he had ever planned. That first night together brought the two of them closer, creating a nearly insatiable appetite to be together every chance they got. Long ago Draco told him it scared him to need to be around him.

Harry chuckled to himself at their stupidity, wiping tears from his cheeks, as he remembered that hurtful day.

_Glaring at the teen he thought he knew, Harry shook with fear. There had been no logical reason to be with his once arch nemesis except for the passion that burned inside him day in and day out, yet everything that had come from that day a year before turned to pure logic in the flick of a wand. He thought it was clear to Draco, but there the teen lay, ambivalent._

_"Are you going to ignore me all day?"_

_Sighing, the blonde lazily looked in his standing direction. "I would but you would continue to bother me all day."_

_Taken aback like he had been stung, Harry said nothing._

_"If you're gong to blubber all over the place, could you at least confine it to that general vicinity?" He pointed to the empty Slytherin common room, the rest of the House at home for the holidays._

_"Why are you acting this way?_

_"I'm bored."_

_"Now or with us?"_

_"Isn't it obvious?"_

_"'S there anything I can do?"_

_"Nope."_

_"Have you seen anyone else?"_

_"Are we mutually exclusive?"_

_"I thought we were."_

_"I thought we weren't."_

_Hurt rippled through his heart at the jab. "I gave-"_

_"Eh! Stop there." He held up his hand in a mock stop sign. "I don't care what you gave or got or didn't. Matters of no importance."_

_Harry turned to leave the room before he really did cry all over, something he had not let Draco see and was not about to now. As he rushed through Draco's open doorway, a tear leaked over his bottom eyelid. Breathing heavily, he switched directions and whispered, "I loved you," then turned for a final time and stormed away, not seeing the shock on the Slytherin's face._

_That night, Harry sat staring at the stars, letting their weak light wash over him. Suddenly an eagle owl appeared at the dorm window's ledge. Draco's._

_The note was short, begging him to meet at the Room of Requirement, their usual hideout. For twenty minutes after the owl had taken off, he sat debating with himself. One the one wand, Draco had been a cold jerk for over a week, acting like the enemy he had once been, but on the other wand, Harry truly loved the cold bastard. Was it worth getting his heart broken again? Finally he strode to the meeting spot beneath his Invisibility Cloak. At the room, Draco silently paced before the visible door, quietly mumbling to himself. "How do you tell someone? How do you change what's been bred into you? Can you? Can I? I shouldn't have-I had to-There is no way. Ugh!" He pulled at his usually glossed down hair. "What if he says no? Or tells me to get lost? Why the hell is love so damn difficult?"_

_Hearing the words come out of Draco's mouth, Harry's heart galloped, the sadness immediately gone. Revealing himself, he advanced on the stunned teen, cupping his face. Repeatedly he whispered "I love you" every time he kissed a part of Draco's face until he realized Draco was saying it back._

As dawn peeked through his window, Harry fell asleep with a smile on his face and dreams filled with Draco on his mind.


	6. Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to J.K. Rowling. This story is a non-profit, independent fan fiction.

**Coming To Terms**

**aka Blue Roses & Black Dreams**

**Chapter Five: Truth**

The shutting of a close by door had Harry jolting out of his dream filled stupor. Groggily he shook his head to clear the fog before his too tired eyes. Ron stood before the closed doorway, Hermione by his side. An ambush, was all he could think of for their being there so.

"Get up," Ron growled, still angry from the conversation last night.

"You going to torture confessions out of me from past wrongs?" Harry retorted, pushing the sleep from his slowed brain, wanting to lay back down and ignore the world.

"This was a bad idea Ro-"

"No, 'Mione, it wasn't."

"He clear-"

"He clearly wants to believe he had nothing to do with his leaving, that it was all us, and now we really want him gone, that we feel nothing for him because of his long absence," he turned his furried attention back to Harry, "Now get up and follow us." They exited the shack, allowing Harry time to quickly change his clothes, before they, or rather Ron, pounded on the thin wall.

Outside, the air was thick with pollen, the sun warming the ground he quickly stepped on, hurrying to follow his two ex-friends to wherever they were taking him. Today would have been a wonderful day to hike around the area, note the changes and the constants, but he would have stayed inside, cooped up like he had been for a year.

Harry ventured, "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," Ron answered, not allowing Hermione to speak. He was clearly mad at her for not being as mad as he was, something Harry remembered Ron doing back in their years at Hogwarts. Ten minutes passed before he noticed they were heading in the same direction as they had in their fourth year to the Quidditch World Cup.

Before he could work out if they were going any farther, the two abruptly stopped. A small forest of its own stood within the forest they were in. Four trees, all different from the next, neatly sprung upward toward the unseen sky, brothers in a lost cause. He stared at the waist high trees for a minute, unsure what to look for.

"Touch them," Hermione whispered, her hands trembling again.

Bending down, Harry touched the smallest, a poplar tree. It's smooth, white bark shot out towards its spiral shaped leaves. The tree next to it was a fir, sickly looking with its green leaves etched with small black splotches as if it had a catching disease. Touching the needles of its neighbor, the fir and pine, looked to be holding hands. Harry shook his head at the obscure thought. An oak, slightly larger than the others, stood off by itself, still within the neat row yet farther away, unreachable. Each tree felt different, radiating something new, but he was still uncertain what he was supposed to feel. Pity that these small trees were overcrowded and over looked, sadness that each tree stood alone or anger that Ron and Hermione were wasting his time.

Standing up and searching the faces of the two before him, Harry suddenly realized there were four trees. And there were four of them: Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Those most affected by his leave. Those that were separated from the other adults because of their closeness. The closeness that the trees didn't represent anymore.

"Are-do those trees-" he couldn't finish his sentence, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Nodding, Hermione finished it for him. Ron stood erect, hands in his jeans. "When were they planted?"

"They weren't," she offered, looking into his eyes.

"I don't understand how-"

"Harry, these trees began to grow during our seventh year. Everyday they change. Everyday since you left they've moved apart."

"Who found them?"

"Ginny. Or she was the one who realized who they represented."

"Do the other trees?"

"No. I researched it, and sometimes the environment around wizards reacts to their presence, sometimes negatively, sometimes positively, depending on the wizard or family. And sometimes by creating something unchanging. Magicus Ambiente."

"Why did you bring me here?" he sadly asked, mimicking Ron.

"Because Ron thinks these trees tell our future."

"Is that normal?"

She shook her head. "I found nothing in my research to agree with the theory."

"It's not a theory, 'Mione!" Ron finally shouted, the hands in his jeans clenching into fists, his brown eyes far away. "You of all people should know that. It told us before you even knew you were…"

"Were what?" Harry wondered.

Hermione's hands shook even more as her lips slightly trembled. "That I'm sick."

Harry's eyes shot quizzical looks at both wizards. He put his hand over his chin and mouth in order to keep it closed, for fear of looking like a gaping idiot. The two before him gave nothing more away, yet he knew inside they had to feel what he did: sadness, anger, pity. Everything he had felt when looking at the trees. For a second he thought of ripping them from the ground, banishing them to death, but he had no idea if their death would cause his or the others. "How severe is it?"

"I'm past the point at which any Wizard or Muggle aid can help."

"I don't understand."

"I'm dying, Harry. I have a tumor in my brain. Inoperable. It's the size of a snitch now, but they say that it could grow to the size of a bludger before- before I die."

His heart swelled with the information, beating faster than normal. "Die."

"Yes. I've got between six months and a year and a half."

"What about-"

"They've tried. I did Muggle chemotherapy last month, but the treatment made me so sick I nearly died then. There's a Wizarding technique where they slowly reduce the size of the tumor by a quarter of an inch everyday, but that too had it's downsides. I began to go blind. When they stopped, they had to repair my eyesight. I have Muggle-like contacts in right now because they couldn't make it normal." She paused to take a deep breath. Obviously she had been preparing for this moment. "Four months ago the fir became sick, it's leaves slowly beginning to show signs. That was after Ginny realized who they represented. She told me to get checked out and they found the tumor. For the past four months I've written you hundreds of letters telling you I'm sick, begging you to come home, shouting at you for leaving me, lying and saying we were all healthy. Every single one I burned."

"If you would have written me, told me, I would have answered," Harry offered.

"No, you wouldn't have," Ron interjected. "The death of Malfoy would have overridden everything. Don't lie for us."

"I'm sorry."

"For lying or for Hermione?" Ron's anger was still apparent.

"That both of you have had to go through this." It was the truth. If he had known, four months ago, he might not have come, but he still would have been sorry. The people he used to call friends didn't deserve to go through this. They deserved the happiness for which he'd had for only a brief time. They deserved much more than the empty days to follow. Without thinking, Harry closed the gap between them and enveloped them with a rare gift, a hug. After a moment of a one-sided hug, Hermione slowly hugged back, tears soaking through his shirt sleeve. Ron still stood erect but his hand rubbed Hermione's back in slow circles. They broke apart, a little worse for wear, a little better than before. There was no going back, no spinning the Time Turner and changing history, there was only moving forward, and now Harry had to move forward faster than planned before he lost them all over.

**

* * *

A/N: It's a little shorter than planned, but the scene in which happens is very short.**


	7. Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to J.K. Rowling. This story is a non-profit, independent fan fiction.

**Coming To Terms**

**aka Blue Roses & Black Dreams**

**Chapter Six: The Meeting**

That night Harry ate alone in his shack, unable to face the other Weasleys with the heaviness on his heart so evident. Not only was he dismal but ashamed with himself. He'd run from his once closest friend in her time of need, never written to make sure all was ok. He hated the distance they'd created, hating the canyon between them that would never fully close before she died. The old Harry would never have broken the loyalty code between friends and yet he had. Maybe the new Harry was not so different from the old one. If that was true, could he change again? Would he want to? Mr. and Mrs. Weasley deserved the change, as did Hermione, that was given. Ginny deserved something Harry would never be able to give her. Ron, on the other hand, was like a 3-D puzzle he'd seen buried in Dudley's closet. On his first night at the Burrow, Harry had seen the true regret in Ron for a moment. Lately, though, the wall of fury had been fully enforced. What would it rake for Ron to forgive him? Had Harry even forgiven him? Ron had been the worst, Harry remembered, that day.

_"I am calling into order a family meeting," Harry began as the Weasleys and Hermione sat on chair and floor in the Burrow's living space._

_"What for?" Ginny lazily inquired between the twins' feet._

_"Yea, Harry, called us away-" George began._

_"-from our ladies, that you did," Fred finished._

_Mrs. Weasley huffed. "That is no way to speak of a woman."_

_Fred smirked, "They don't-"_

_"-mind," George mischievously grinned._

_"I only have-" Charlie checked his flat watch, "-twenty five minutes."_

_"Same here," Percy chimed in. "Make this quick."_

_Bill shot his younger brother a hard look. "Let his talk, Perce, he's here for a reason."_

_"Mum," Ron grumbled, "I'm hungry." His hand was firmly twined with Hermione's who sat quietly waiting for Harry._

_"Be patient, Ronald," Mr. Weasley scolded and focused a large grin to Harry's anxious smile. "We're listening, Harry, go ahead."_

_With slightly shaking hands Harry boldly laid out his thoughts. "For the past year and a half, I've been secretly seeing someone-" He cut off the mouths that suddenly opened in protest. "-because it was something I'd been ashamed of at first, but after time passed I realized I loved them." Again he cut off the objections, and possible but far away praises, by holding up his still shaking hands. "I wanted to tell each and every one of you together because you are more family to me than the Dursleys."_

_Mrs. Weasley's eyes gushed large, happy tears._

_"Who is he?" Hermione finally asked, her voice higher pitched than normal._

_"You mean 'she,' 'Mione." Ron poked her in the ribs for fun. _

_She didn't flinch, instead shook her head, her eyes tightly locked with Harry's. "Do we know him?"_

_Quiet whispers broke out between the confused twins, Percy and Charlie. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stared into the empty fire grate in a trance._

_"Yes," whispered Harry, his throat parched, desperate for a Fire Whiskey. "Its-its…" Suddenly he had not the courage to tell them his brain melted when Draco entered the room and touching him was like being in a vegetative coma. There wasn't a way he could phrase it for them to comprehend he was gay and in love. Why had he brought it up?_

_"Wait," Ron interjected, "'Mione's right? You're…gay?" It was more of an accusation than a question._

_Harry meekly nodded. For a moment he thought someone was on his side, that his best mate would make it easier. That was before Ron flew off the cuckoo's nest and screamed nonsense. It took both Charlie and Bill to subdue the frantic teen by which time Harry was near tears, at his wits end._

_"Continue," Bill solemnly stated, sympathy in his tired eyes._

_"It's not like it seems," Harry tried to explain. "I didn't just wake up one morning-I've felt this way-I can't explain it," he settled with. "I just want you to know."_

_Hermione's voice intensified. "You still haven't told us who you've been seeing."_

_After a pause, "Draco Malfoy." _

_The room erupted noise three times greater than the commotion Ron had started:_

_"What?"_

_"Are you serious? Tell me you aren't."_

_"That's disgusting."_

_"A bloody Slytherin?"_

_"Him?"_

_"He's a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake!"_

_"Why?"_

_"Oh, Harry."_

_"How?"_

_But Ron's voice echoed loudest of all. "You're a goddamn liar!"_

_"Ronald," Mrs. Weasley's voice boomed._

_"I'm not lying," Harry murmured._

_"Liar!" he screamed. "Your fame is dying, now you're starved for attention!"_

_"No." He could barely raise his voice louder than normal even at the outlandish reply._

_"Stop this, Ronald Billius, right now," Mrs. Weasley tried again._

_Ron ignored her. "You've been a lonely abusive boy who couldn't get Malfoy to touch him with a broom!"_

_"It's all true, ask Draco."_

_"Oh, now it's _Draco_?" The hands grappling for him did nothing as he bucked wildly, breaking ranks. "He's a fucking liar just like you! What else have you lied about, covered up?"_

_"Nothing."_

_"What, did you use Gin and leave her dry?"_

_Harry at last firmly replied "No" as Ginny smacked Ron across the face._

_"How can you say that? It's none of your business either way," Ginny fumed, her face the color of her red hair._

_"Stay out of this," Ron growled._

_"I will not."_

_"You will or I will make you."_

_"I'd like to see you try."_

_"Stop this," Harry cried out. "You're supposed to be happy for me. This was suppose-"_

_"Happy?" Ron crudely laughed. "You're with a Slytherin!"_

_"Thought he was lying," argued Bill, still calm and even more tired after the exchange._

_"I don't care. You are a betrayer."_

_Percy stood and pushed his horn rimmed glasses up his nose with his pointer finger. "There must be a reasonable explanation for all this. Let me get the Verit-"_

_"I'm not lying."_

_"Then he's simply under the Imperius Curse."_

_"No-"_

_"They all say that."_

_"Perce-" Bill began but stopped._

_"All this time?" Hermione asked, her hand tight around Ron's, holding him silent._

_"Yes," he once again whispered._

_"You're not who we thought you were," Ron glared, his poised back in control. "Why don't you leave us and never come back?"_

So he had left a few days later and hadn't returned until now. Remembering that scene was especially difficult for him. He couldn't be sure if they didn't accept him being gay or him loving a known enemy. _Come to think of it_, he contemplated, _Hermione knew right away. How? _Later, when he knew he had his emotions under control, he would ask her and try to coax Ginny from her room where she'd locked herself since the dinner before last, much like Harry. They had been getting along like friends until Ziyad. "Jerk," he thought aloud.

"Who me?" The same dark haired man stood nonchalantly at Harry's open window.

"As a matter of fact."

Ziyad smirked. "I just thought I'd stop in and apologize for my behavior the other night. I had no right to nudge your business, unless that is, you don't want my apology."

"I could care less. You created a mess that should have been avoided," Harry objectified as he rose and slammed the window in the man's face. Ziyad departed from view but returned at the door with a brisk knock. Aggravated, Harry opened it and growled, "What?"

"Truth should never be avoided, no matter the cost."

"The truth? I don't even know the truth which is why I said nothing."

"As I stated earlier, I fully apologize. Hope to put it behind us." Holding out his left hand, Ziyad waited. "This is where we shake. All is forgotten, or have you forgotten? We will be seeing enough of each other as current neighbors."

Opposed, Harry shut the door in his face and walked away. Maybe Ziyad was nice and maybe not, but sometimes he was so like Draco it was unnerving.

"I can't get over you," whispered Harry as he held his face in his hands and shook. Ziyad stood watching, unnoticed.


	8. Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to J.K. Rowling. This story is a non-profit, independent fan fiction.

**Coming To Terms**

**aka Blue Roses & Black Dreams**

**Chapter Seven: Re-Construction**

A weary week passed, nothing strange or new happening, nothing at all to account for. Harry kept to himself at the dismay of Hermione who thought she'd broken through the barriers. Locking himself in his shack was, only allowing Mrs. Weasley to bring him food, gave him time to think, ponder over his feelings and wants. In truth, he acted like a prisoner in his jail-like room, brooding, ranting, crying and throwing things, all in the name of sanity, or finding it. What he realized at the end of that week was that he was ready to face up to it all and start over. On the surface he may have run back because he had no where else to go and in truth had lost the house, he'd come for a very real reason: to live a better life than what he'd been living, to try and continue on, put an end to the horrors in his mind. Now he was strong enough to do those things. It started with his column.

His column seemed frivolous compared to the catastrophe of his life but it was as impersonal as it got, not to mention his first deadline was a few days away. If he missed it, he'd be jobless as well.

Sitting at the scarred table with only one good chair, and a fresh piece of parchment and his faithful peacock feather before him, was like a fresh sense of deja-vu. Harry could remember long nights sitting before a muted television screen while Draco helped him with his diction, his own personal dictionary. Those were the nights, but this was today, and he pushed away the memory before another bout of tears could ruin his attempt.

The quill flowed over the thin parchment before Harry, the words black as his hardened heart, black as his still morbid thoughts.

'Every year millions of people, both Muggle and Wizard alike, lose someone close to them, whether by death, miscommunication, distance, or termination of a relationship. That loss never fades away to black and often haunts us till the day we die. For each individual, the aspects of the loss are different, as are the consequences, both good and bad. Wading through and moving on is especially hard. Do we trust someone as deeply or keep them at arms length? Should we sacrifice for the relationship? Tell them to? End all or rather endure through it? Life by no means is easy and although it is our choice to live, it is better to come out on top. Often times after a significant loss it is easy to drown in depression, a Muggle term for a constant feeling of sadness unable to be overthrown without the use of medical help, but there are ways to stop the decent; some people need to come to terms with the loss, and some need to push it away. Many people become angry, even more stay that way. Others bury their lives in work, books, other relationships even. For me, it was…'

Within fifteen minutes the column sat before him, one full parchment length still glistening as the ink dried. Long forgotten was the feeling, the rush, of writing, letting loose like no other reliever. Harry loved magic, loved everything about it, but it was the mundane and simple Muggle tasks that kept his hand steady and his mind busy. He loved that too which was one giant reason for moving into a Muggle neighborhood, to lead semi-normal lives. The freedom of writing, rudely thrown aside for feeling, would have helped the healing process, he realized too late. _Maybe now it could finish it though_, he construed.

A light knocking closed his mind, bringing him back to the room and Hermione at his door. Slowly he ambled to the windowed door, intentionally opening it wide enough for her to squeeze in.

"Figure I'd see how you were doing," she started, "Hoped I didn't scare you away."

Harry shook his head. He gently placed his hand over her crossed arms. "Needed time to think, that's all."

"What did you-," she hesitated, "-find?"

"A lot actually."

"Will you tell me?" She looked sad and lost, Harry decided, but couldn't tell if it was because of him or her tumor.

He motioned for her to sit on the bed, the most comfortable object in the room while he took the floor across from her, his knees against his chest. They sat for a couple minutes before Harry could speak clearly. "There's a lot going on in my head but one thing I want, no need, to do is make it right between you and me. I don't know how to do that or even where to start. Kinda hoping you'll help me, give me a little leeway."

Her face softened. A smile played there. "You know I want to help you all I can."

"I know."

"All you had to do was ask."

"That needs work too."

"You've always asked, it was timing that was different."

"Yea."

"What about them?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley deserve a lot more than I've given and that's one of my goals. I can't ever give Ginny what she needs."

"A friend?"

"And if that's not what she needs?"

"Harry, Ginny loves you, I think she always has, but leaving made her realize she can't ever have you that way. I think she'd rather take friendship over nothing at all."

"Then I can give her that."

"Unless you're bi," she smirked, the old spark in her eyes.

"Hmm…I think not," he smirked back.

"Ron?" The smile faded.

Silently he shrugged, not looking into her eyes. Through all the thinking he'd danced around that one subject. There was blame, a lot of it. He didn't want to be the first to cave.

"He really does care about you still."

Snorting, he rolled his eyes. "Shows."

"He's angry, Harry, can't you see that and look past it?"

"No."

"Not even if that's what it takes for him to finally understand and stop being so angry?"

"Did he tell you that?"

"Doesn't have to anymore."

Sadly he remembered, "I used to know Draco like that."

Hermione leaned forward over the bed. "What was he like? The Draco you knew?"

Grinning, Harry closed his eyes. "Very much like you knew him: stubborn, pig headed, pugnacious, irritable, but there was so much more under the mask. Love, joy, sweetness. He really cared about people. Poking fun was his way of acknowledging someone. He had my back even when I was in the wrong. After I let him in and he fully trusted me, he shared everything with me. It took a lot to get there."

"He sounds wonderful." She stood from her seat and sat on the floor next to him, putting her arms around his shoulders. "I'm sorry you lost him."

"I didn't loose him." He angrily swiped at his eyes. "He was taken."

Puzzled, Hermione drew back to look clearly at him. "Mrs. Weasley said he died. We figured-"

"It was natural? No, Draco, was killed, murdered, in our living room while I watched."

"That must have been horrifying. Was it magical?"

He nodded. "Never caught the man. Ireland's minister had all the Aurors looking into it."

"Why didn't we hear about this?"

"Polyjuice Potion. No one knew it was me. They sent word to Draco's family. I'm assuming they told a few wizards. They too hated the idea of Draco and I. They had different, more eccentric, plans for his future."

"Including dying?"

"As a Death Eater, yes."

"Did he ever think about that life?"

"When he was younger, before Hogwarts."

"Because that was all he knew," she affirmed.

He nodded again. "Are you and Ron ever going to get married?"

"We've talked it over but since I don't have much time left, why bother?"

"If it makes you happy-"

"He makes me happy. I don't need anything more."

"Except time," he added. The silence stretched between them as each thought about the near and too soon future.

Immediately she brightened and said, "Tell me about yours."

Knowing she meant his wedding, he recalled everything he could. "We both wore black, traditional tuxes. My tie was emerald green and my pocket kerchief was maroon. Draco's was opposite."

"Symbolic."

"We really just couldn't agree," he grinned. "We took a flight, first class, to Winsor, Massachusets in the states because his mother's family was originally from that area before she married Lucius and took his last name. Draco hated his father, thought he was only interested in himself and the future of the Malfoy line; which is exactly true. But he loved his mother even if she didn't accept me or what he wanted. Two months after we left, I took him for a walk around the city I wanted to buy a house in. I proposed. The date was a month later, in the fall when the leaves were gently falling. Our photographer was Colin."

"Creevey. I thought he pestered you?"

"Yes. Yet he was the only person I knew who took pictures and could keep our secret, mostly because Draco paid him a hefty amount of money. He did the same with our Minister. Everything took maybe a half an hour, even with the pictures, but it was the most perfect half hour."

"Do you still have you ring?"

"Both." He pulled out a long silver chain from underneath his shirt where two intricate rings jingled at the bottom. "Close to my heart." Both rings were silver with a gold, flowing pattern around each one. Only a small inscription on the inside of one discerned them.

"Is that was it reads?"

"In Gaelic, yes. Draco was fluent. Last minute he had mine inscribed."

"They're both beautiful."

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry I never understood. Pushed you away."

Harry sighed, staring at the rings before him. He never took them off their chain, never took them off his neck. It was his way of staying true to his heart even when his heart wanted to crack from the longing. There would come a day when he would lose his memory, but he would never lose the rings. Sometimes he slid his own in his left index finger, wondering how something so small could mean so much. "You knew that day," he recalled, still staring. "How?"

"You snuck off a lot during the night. I could hear you underneath the cloak as if you were visible. Must have been from all the times Ron and I were with you."

"Sorry I didn't tell you."

"You did, again, timing." She smiled and curled her hand in his.

"Things will never be the same, will they?" Harry leaned his head on hers, her brown bushy hair cushioning his like a pillow.

"No, but that isn't a bad thing."

"You should be mad at me, not sitting here. I don't really deserve it."

"Does it really matter now? Is it not better we are here?"

Harry sat and mulled it over while he listened to her peaceful breathing, glad they were beginning to make amends.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for such a long wait my faithful readers, I had an extremely long bout of writer's block, and it sucked. I probably wrote out these last two chapters four or five times trying to write something that didn't suck ass. I'm working on Ch 8 as we speak so you can expect it within the next week. To give you guys a treat, I posted two chapters instead of one. It's been a while. Thanks again and review!!!**


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